we are not truly immortal

[dark_light]

After Glass's party is over with, Amariah and Kas go home.

Amariah fetches down their alethiometers.

"It's about time I took care of Alethia's afterlife, whatever it may be," she says quietly. "What can the alethiometer tell you about what I'll find?"

Comments

[pythbox]

They find no more harpies on the way.

[endragoned]

Meanwhile, Aianon is telling stories.

He has twelve thousand years of them. He will not run out.

[dark_light]

Amariah is curious when storytime becomes actually-figuring-out-what-to-do-with-harpies time, but she can give it a while. She sticks with Cam while they trace the shoreline. The topography is weird but it doesn't shift; distances in multiple directions don't add up right but tracing the same sequence of movements always leads to the same landmarks, same shore features. The shades exist on an island, judging by what happens when the shore is flown along. Estimating its size is futile, of course.

[endragoned]

Storytime is interspersed with conversation; Kas and Aianon express an interest in knowing the harpies' history, and in bits and pieces, they learn it. Most of what they get is not of immediate practical value, but it builds a picture, and the picture shows them how to find out what it is the harpies want.

[pythbox]

It's Calliope who finally says, after gentle coaxing and aimless conversation and many, many stories, after the Jokers admit that ambition is a thing they almost entirely lack:

"We have a purpose now. Something real, something true, something important, even if your friends don't like it. It's no good just giving us these stories, tasty as they are. We need a job that means something, or there's just no point."

The other four all nod.

[dark_light]

Jane can't see in here, Amariah says through the link. They could sort through the dead, if I wind up being able to adjust this place instead of having to move everybody out to make them whole. The thing where they can sense guilt might even be a reasonable proxy for judgesight if they can do it non-destructively.

[truthwright]

Good plan, says Kas. We'll keep it in mind. How are you doing with the river?

[dark_light]

It's an island; I can see where we started up ahead. Going to see how high up we can get, first - it looks like there's a ceiling but I have no idea if that's real or not. Funky topography.

[truthwright]

Ain't it just.

Kas starts telling the harpies about his time as a stripper in Montreal.

[dark_light]

The Bells fly up.

[arenaria]

Shell Bell wakes up.

[sicaria]

Sherlock kisses her forehead.

[arenaria]

Shell Bell peers up at Sherlock with confused eyes, but does not cry or squirm or otherwise display anything resembling her earlier distress.

[sicaria]

"Good morning," she murmurs, with some irony.

[arenaria]

"Hi."

[sicaria]

"How are you?"

[arenaria]

"Better. But..." She pauses, thoughtful.

"I don't feel like - like I just got screamed at by a harpy - anymore - I guess that wears off - but I'm still thinking about the content."

[sicaria]

Sherlock's gyrfalcon runs his beak through Shell Bell's hair.

"Explain?" he says softly.

[arenaria]

The smew gazes up adoringly at the gyrfalcon and snuggles up to the nearest available Sherlock-skin.

"I'm - I think this is a template thing but I don't know how strongly - I'm so very wrapped up in what I want. All the time. It's just everyone else's luck that a lot of things I want have to do with them, and that most of the things I want that have to do with other people are nice things. And that was harpy-ammunition and I felt bad about being selfish and I was trying to do something else and I couldn't figure out how, and I'm not sure if that's good."

[sicaria]

"Something else?" prompts Sherlock.

[arenaria]

"Besides thinking about what I want all the time. I know you don't, at least not the way I do. I couldn't translate myself into that - mental language, though. About the closest I managed was feeling bad about everything I liked so I would want it less. I couldn't even make sense of wanting to do things for you without that being about me wanting it first."

[sicaria]

"...you could say that I prioritize others before myself because it is what I want to do," Sherlock says thoughtfully.

[arenaria]

"You could say that. But the - order of priority is different. My wanting to do nice things for other people fights it out on a level playing field with wanting ice cream; I mean, they're rarely incompatible and the first one's usually stronger but they're not different kinds of things on the immediate level. I don't think I would say that about you."

[sicaria]

"Ah. No," says Sherlock. "That's true."

[arenaria]

"And then wanting things felt awful and I couldn't figure out what else to do except cry and try to escape from anything that might make it stop, because if it stopped I would go back to unabashedly wanting things, and that would make me a horrible person."